


domino dancing

by superfundsite (orphan_account)



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e09 Singularity, Insectoid Andorians, Kissing, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, to the kissing not to anything else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22473961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/superfundsite
Summary: Set during S2E09 "Singularity, but if it was in the theoretical season 5 where Shran is part of the crew.
Relationships: Jonathan Archer/Thy'lek Shran
Comments: 5
Kudos: 83





	domino dancing

**Author's Note:**

> discord server shenanigans spawned this. shran is obsessed with archer. title from "domino dancing" by the pet shop boys

It happens while Reed is trying to talk his ear off about which alarm sounds better, this one, or this one, when Shran is hit by a sudden realization.

He needed to find Archer, he needed to-

He straightens up, antennae unfurling, and pushes Reed out of his way. 

“Hey! I’m not done yet-”

“Unless you can get Archer for me, I have no business with you.” He says curtly. 

He leaves Reed in engineering, where Tucker is soon to become the target of his spiel for the new and improved “Reed Alert”.

~~~

Shran enters the mess hall, perhaps Archer was having lunch? 

T’pol is there, sitting at a table by herself, drinking a cup of tea and reading from a PADD. Now and then, her eyes drifted to the people around them, but he doesn’t notice. She seems relieved when he sits down, and relaxes her grip on the PADD.

“Commander Shran.”

“Sub-commander.” Shran doesn’t sit down but instead leans in close. “Do you happen to know where the Captain may be?”

T’pol looks at him curiously. “Why do you ask?”

“It is… important that I speak with him. Do you know where he is?”

T’pol does not let her face betray her thoughts. “No.”

Shran scowls. “I’ll try the bridge, and if not, I’ll go to his quarters and wait for him there if I have to, or go over the ship with a fine tooth comb to find him.”

  
~~~

Fate is not so cruel as to let him do just that, because he sees Archer leaving the bridge, reading a PADD, and looking focused as he does so. Shran feels a vein in his temple throb. 

He was so… handsome. The slope of his nose, the furrowed brow, his eyes so intense as he read. Shran notices the slightest flutter of movement in his lips, reading aloud to himself, or just under his breath. And oh, his body- strong and tall and sculpted, even under the baggy, standard issue jumpsuit he can see the curves and lines when he walked. Shran’s gaze falls from Archer’s face as he turns, and fixes itself on his back as he walks away, down the hall.

Shran feels himself grow warm under the collar, and he shadows Archer all the way to his quarters.

He needed him, needed Archer. He needed to… do something for him. To show his appreciation for every time that he helped him, aided him and the people of Andoria, came to his rescue. 

Finally, Archer enters his quarters, and Shran sneaks to his door, and waits to ensure Archer doesn’t come back out. 

He taps the panel to let Archer know he’s there.

No answer.

Taps it again.

No answer.

Shran rolls his eyes.

Inputting his security override, he slips into the shadows of the room. The lighting is off save for the lamp at the desk, and Shran sees the Captain hard at work at his computer. If he’s noticed Shran coming in, he doesn’t say anything. Porthos notices him from his little bed, but just chuffs and curls up again, familiar with the appearance of the Andorian by now.

Shran lets out a tiny exhale, seeing that intensity again. The jumpsuit’s fabric stretches over a broad, strong back, and for a moment Shran thinks that he’d like to touch him.

He takes a step forwards, soundless. He doesn’t notice his whole body trembling in anticipation, his antennae stretching forwards as his hand does until he finally,  _ finally, _ can touch-

His fingers make first contact with Archer’s shoulder, and then the rest of his gloved hand rests atop it warmly. Shran stops himself from sighing in relief, as he squeezes his shoulder. The other hand soon joins its partner, and then he really can’t help himself, letting his thoracic appendages, delicate with two curved digits ending in sharp claws and covered in fuzz, as they take their place besides his hands.

“Archer,” he whispers.

“I’m busy, Shran.” Archer’s voice sounds distracted and far away, and Shran almost pouts.

“Archer, listen to me….”

“Not now.” 

“But-”

“I’m busy with this, Shran, I have to finish this preface and then I can get back to you on whatever you need.” Archer finally turns to face him, and Shran scowls. 

“What is it even for, anyways?” 

“It’s for a biography about my father, they wanted me to do this. Unless you want to read it, get out of my quarters.”

If it lets him stay….

“I’ll read it.”

Archer blinks. “Really?”

“Yes. Why don’t you… read it aloud to me, I’ll listen.”

Archer smiles. 

“That sounds very nice, Shran. Thank you. Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestures to the bed. Shran gingerly sits down, and stares up at him expectantly as Archer sits besides him. The bed dips, and Shran watches as Archer’s leg shifts closer to his own as he settles himself.

“Alright, here’s what I have down so far. ‘When I was a boy, my….”

It fades into background noise quickly, Shran staring at him and losing himself as he watches Archer read aloud. His lips move.

Shran has only seen pink rarely. The insides of certain fruits, of animals, of other people.

He has never associated it with warmth. Yellow, yes, red and orange- these were warm to him. 

But to associate pink with warmth was a new development.

Yes- that was what Archer’s pinkness seemed to represent. In the ruddy flush to his face after heavy movement, as the sweat would roll down and he panted for air, or just his lips as they moved now, speaking to a deaf audience. Shran feels himself grow bold, and he presses his thigh against Archer’s. He wants to be closer to that warmth.

Archer doesn’t notice.

Shran presses against him more insistently, tilts his head towards Archer’s, and an antenna stretches out not so subtly towards him. It brushes his cheek.

Archer does notice.

“Shran, what are you-?”

Shran leans in, eyes half lidded and now both of his antennae curl forwards as he touches Archer’s face gently, his insectoid arms choosing to rest on the front of his uniform, the blunt claws barely making an indent in the fabric. He feels like he has to be so gentle, suddenly, breath shaky as he tilts his head to the side, and he leans in slowly.

Archer lets out a soft moan and Shran feels like he could die here, lips on Archer’s in that strange human way of showing affection, but it is… compelling.

It is not so explored on Andoria, the lips. Shran realizes he has been sorely missing out, and that the humans knew what to do.

Archer tosses the PADD to the floor, and he moves his hands to Shran’s hips, runs them up to his waist. Shran sighs and lets him lead, as the kisses grow more insistent. Archer lets one of his hands leave him to settle on Shran’s chin instead. He uses his thumb to swipe at Shran’s lower lip, before pressing down as if to indicate for Shran to open his mouth. 

Shran apprehensively follows, and Archer’s tongue slides against teeth before Shran opens his mouth a bit further and their tongues meet in the middle. 

The first one to pull away is Shran, gasping for air, lips wet and his face flushed darkly. Archer looks a bit disappointed, his face just as affected.

“Hey, I thought we were…”

“Yes, but I acted-I--I didn’t ask if you wanted to-”

“Shh.” Archer smiles, warm and his eyes are half closed as he pushes Shran down onto the bed, the Andorian’s eyes widening. “I do. For the first time in hours I… I don’t care about the stupid foreword. I want you.”

Shran doesn’t get a chance to speak before Archer kisses him again, pinning him down to the bed, holding his wrists above his head, bodies pressed against each other. Shran’s groan is muffled against Archer’s lips, but he can’t find himself complaining. Isn’t this what he wanted, after all? He closes his eyes, and rolls his hips against Archer’s. He’s burning alive, with desire settling low and liquid. He wants to be touched everywhere by Archer, wants to be able to feel every inch of him.

Archer lets go of his wrists when he pulls them away, and instead one of his hands is next to Shran’s head as the other strokes his jawline. The kisses deepen again, this time Shran becoming more comfortable with the tongue and the awkward tilt of his head so their noses don’t get in the way. 

Then, a shudder runs through his body violently, and he lets out a pitiful whine.

A single finger strokes up and down his left antenna, and Shran’s bones turn to jelly. 

“Yes, yes-”

“You like that? Yeah?” Archer’s voice is low, and he continues stroking his antenna, this time with his whole hand, and Shran almost cries out loud.

The stimulation is so good, almost too much. He feels a sudden slickness between his legs. The leather pants feel too tight, feels his slit start to pulsate and then Archer curls his fist around his antenna and gives a firm  _ tug _ and-

Shran falls apart.

He arches off the bed, moans brokenly, and Archer watches through heavy eyelids. 

“Shran, Shran, Shran,” he repeats, like a mantra as he presses feverish kisses to his slack lips, cups his face in his hands as he straddles Shran’s hips as they buck erratically. 

Shran’s breath is short and sharp, his eyes fluttering and his vision blurry as he’s swept away, helpless in the wake of pleasure.

Archer gazes at him with an expression Shran has only seen on the most lovestruck, most miserable souls. 

“Jonathan.” He brushes a claw against Archer’s cheek. “You looked so… so handsome. I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’m glad you couldn’t. You’re so gorgeous when you come, I want you to do it again-”  _ kiss _ “-and again-”  _ kiss _ “-until you can’t.”

Shran feels his whole body grow taut with arousal again, despite being winded from his first orgasm. He nods, unsure of what to say, but hopes his body speaks for itself as he rolls his hips invitingly. Archer rearranges them so now Shran’s legs are spread and he’s settled between them. 

Shran trembles, and looks up at him pleadingly. “Oh, please, do try.”

Archer smiles widely, hands on the backs of Shran’s thighs, and he leans down to kiss him once again.


End file.
